Lull
The relative sun stood low over the horizon, casting a dull shadow over even lowly rocks and plants. The plains was quiet once again; the echoes of war mere hours ago became nothing more than just that: echoes.
Nevertheless, the evidence remained. Some bodies were yet to be recovered, and alien blood painted a spectrum of casualties. The bright blue blood of a grunt mingled with the glowing orange plasma of a hunter, evidences of where they had fallen. Charred metal and leaking radiation also painted the countryside.
A lone figure stood amongst the dead. His helmet was highly modified, with several scope and sight attachments. In contrast, his armor bared the basic Mjolnir Mark VI permutation. He bent his knees, and lifted the shattered corpse of a jackal, whose equally broken plasma pistol on the ground indicated a sort of last stand.
And he continued his duties, collecting the costs of battle. He set each body in a large grave, where other alien brothers-in-arms lay in serenity.
“So is the life of war.” Corey said absentmindedly. “So is the call of duty…”
A hiss of static came in on the comm. “Corey,” Kai said on the other side, “have you finished cleaning the battlefield?”
“Almost, sir.” The robotic unit replied. “Over ninety percent of the fallen has been disposed of.”
“Good.” The admiral hissed back.
And Corey continued his duties. The silence of war seemed to become more eerie as the sun fell from the sky, replaced by a slowly darkening blue. Some of the blood emitted a harsh biofluorescence, casting a bright orange or blue on the occasional landscape. It was difficult for him to clean up the liquid gore without damaging the foliage.
“Sir,” the AI started, interrupting the quietness, “why are we burying their dead?”
A click of mandibles echoed hollowly from the other end. “Because,” Kai stated, “it is the right thing to do to honor the death of the enemies. We honor our dead, we should respect the deaths of others, no matter how vile.
“Besides,” he continued offhandedly, “their exposed bodies may be detrimental to our position and health.”
“I see.” Corey returned flatly. ‘Because it is the right thing to do…
‘Is it?’
And he continued his duties.
Night had fallen, but a cloud formation blotted out much of the sky. Wind aside, the sound of rain could be heard in the distance; the land in the plains was still arid, for the blood had dried.
The Forerunner base, although entirely foreign and uncomfortably alien, provided an eerily welcoming shelter for the squad of six. Aura and Crackshot were in the hangar, where the battered warthog sat; the slot for the mongoose was gloomily vacant. The large overhanging door was down, keeping away the cool night air. As Crackshot inspected the damage to their jeep, their only remaining vehicle, Aura overlooked a table, where half a dozen rifles and an assortment of ammunition were laid out: today’s spoils.
“Shame we couldn’t get more from the Covenant this time ’round, isn’t it, sis?” Aura remarked.
“Woulda been nice to have picked up a wraith or a ghost.” Crackshot agreed.
The markswoman went to grab a welding torch and several steel plates for the ‘hog. Aura, completing her cursory glance at the arsenal in front of her, tossed aside some rounds and a rifle to a bin labeled, “damaged”. With the rest, she began sorting them by type; Covie tech went on the left, while UNSC weaponry were stacked on the right; needle rounds sat on the left, carbine ammunition followed, then brute shot launch grenades, and finally fuel rods at the end. On the off side, only a few clips for UNSC rifles were scavenged; some of the munitions must have fallen into enemy hands, but they likely preferred their own guns to human firearms. Aura loved to collect ammunition; it was part obsession, part worst-case scenario defense plan, so she stockpiled plenty of bullets and batteries.
A bright light in Aura’s peripheral caused her to turn, but her caution was unfounded as Crackshot worked to repair the warthog; the dazzling brilliance of the torch illuminated the entire garage as it sparked, soldering and melting the plates into place.
“Damn it, this warthog can’t take any more damage.” Crackshot muttered. As she disabled the torch, she gave the plates a hefty knock; they stayed durably in place. Satisfied with the impromptu reinforcement, she went back to replace the welding torch. “If only you weren’t so damned crappy with your shots, maybe we’d get some decent intact vehicles.”
“What gives you the right to say that??” Aura returned sharply.
“I’m the marksman.” Crackshot replied definitively.
She walked away, leaving the riflewoman to scrounge about her hoard of guns and ammo. As Aura stashed away a few plasma rifles, repeaters, and pistols, she frowned. ‘Why couldn’t the Covenant have made rechargeable batteries?’ She sighed resignedly, satisfied with her latest catch, and shoved the rest of the cache into a crate.
Aura dropped the crate next to several identical boxes, serving similar functions. As she left the garage, she closed the lights, and the hangar fell into a lonely darkness.
Kai seemed calm under these circumstances; not even being on a hostile alien planet designed to destroy the life from the galaxy fazed him, as he quietly tapped at his holopad keyboard. His room, once a half-vacant desert, slowly began to fill with the clutter of electronics and tools. Some were offline, while others hissed with static and white noise, while others more were fully online, holographic projections and electronic messages astir. Despite all of these distractions, the table where he was busy drafting his findings was quite devoid of much else besides the holopad.
The words and sentences seemed to build themselves, yet once in a while, a stop occurred, and the admiral paused in thought, until the words once again came to him.
“Corey.” Kai asked. The AI appeared next to the holographic text, in his usual form as a Forerunner monitor.
“Yes, sir?” Corey responded.
“How has the armor coped?”
Kai had forgotten to take the liberty to study the errors himself, having been so engrossed in his studying of Viper’s team. ‘Such is the life of a recluse, I suppose. One yearns so much about other people, yet has not the face to meet them.’
“Analyzing. None of the unactivated armor abilities are defective, but they still require a few days of warmup to work.”
“Not bad, all things considered.” Kai pushed his text aside, and opened another file, one also dense with words. “How does the research look?”
“Promising.” The AI replied. “Although further testing is required, for there seems to be several unforeseen variables that must be alleviated.”
“Understood. How about Project: Abyss?”
“Fully completed.”
Kai clicked his mandibles. “Excellent. Dismissed.” Corey disappeared, leaving only the admiral and his documents. He closed the opened research, and went back to typing. As the simple tap-tap-tap of the keyboard continued, he stopped, thought, then began anew.
‘How peculiar I am.’ He admitted. ‘So much ingenuity, so much science in what veins are left in me, yet I still struggle with such basic communications.’ He chuckled at that irony, continuing to type away his report.
Viper sat, once again, in the infirmary. His helmet sat at his side; some pieces of armor were removed, revealing red and blue bruises. He had not fully recovered from his previous beating, and his relentlessness in the last firefight strained him.
Eagle fumbled around, looking for some biofoam, while Bertha softly tended to the captain’s wounds.
“Hey, can someone label these things?” Eagle whined, sifting through cabinets. “I can’t find a damn thing!”
“Wasn’t it your job to do that?” Bertha replied vehemently, not bothering to look up.
“Oh, right…” Eagle muttered, quieting as he continued to look. “Ah, here it is!” He produced a medkit, which he tossed to Bertha.
She caught it with ease, and opened it up; among the many medical devices, she reached for a rather large syringe.
“This won’t hurt a bit.” She assured Viper.
“Says the heavy weapons expert.” Viper chided.
Bertha responded by jabbing the needle into one of his armor ports, where the biofoam was injected into the damaged area. Viper winced; it was a cooling, soothing sensation, but that sharp transition made him alert. He sighed, slowly surrendering to the healing properties of the foam.
Bertha removed the syringe from the port. “Alright,” she said, “that should keep you in one piece for a while.” She gave him an approving pat on the back.
As the three of them refitted the armor plates back onto Viper, the door hissed open, with Kai standing at the threshold.
Bertha instinctively thought of reaching for a weapon, but double-checked herself; this was an infirmary, not an armory. Eagle looked up, his expression spelling displeasure. Viper looked at Kai grimly, but his facial features did not change.
“Ah, I see you’re recovering well.” Kai said unremarkably. “We wouldn’t want to lose you in such a pathetic fashion, now would we?”
Eagle growled at that offhanded statement, while Bertha moved defensively toward Viper. Kai did not seem fazed at their nervousness.
“Anyway,” the admiral continued, “I wish to have the captain’s attendance, and his only, if you may.”
Neither lieutenant dared to move, until Viper held up a hand. “Dismissed.”
“But sir–” Bertha started.
“Don’t worry.” Viper replied, flashing a surprisingly warm smile. “I’ll be okay.”
Bertha did not seem convinced, frowning a slight, while Eagle continued to leer hostilely at Kai. But the heavy weapons expert began to walk toward the doorway, motioning the sniper to do the same. Both soldiers walked past Kai and out the door. Just as they passed the corner, a slight echo of Eagle could be heard: “I still don’t trust him” whispered the halls.
Kai thumbed at the hallway. “Lovable folks, aren’t they?”
Viper grunted. “They’re my men and women. Hardy warriors; tough as nails.”
“So I’ve heard.” Kai said matter-of-factly. He looked over Viper. “Seems you still have some bumps and bruises.”
“It comes with war.” Viper muttered.
Kai looked at him quizzically. “Perhaps this should help.”
Codeword:
Ice
The admiral waved his hand, and translucent hexagons began surrounding the captain. Viper, startled, did a half-double take as the shapes enveloped him, before a blue aura covered the volume. His eyes widened; he looked over his injuries, and with astonishment, they were slowly disappearing before his eyes.
Just as the last wound closed, Kai motioned again, and the impromptu drop shield fell apart. “There.” The admiral affirmed. “That’s more like it.”
Viper, amazed, stuttered, “wha–what was that?”
“Research.” Kai noted carelessly. “But that is not what I am here about.”
“Is that so?” The captain asked rhetorically, regaining his rugged composure. “I don’t suppose this is about me, then?”
“It isn’t.” The admiral replied. This surprised Viper; he was almost certain that this meeting would involve him. “Actually,” Kai continued, “this is about a project I’m working on. It’s called Project: Abyss. Because of your intention of keeping to yourselves, I wish to run it by you for consideration, despite the fact that you want to avoid my interferences. Would you like to hear?”
Viper seemed to frown at the notion. He scanned Kai; he could discern not a trace of emotion from the armored being, the admiral was absolutely like an automaton. Resignedly, he said, “that depends. What’s this project about?”
Kai’s mandibles warped into a grin. “I’m glad you asked. Well…”